


the city they became

by tangerinelights



Category: BLACKPINK (Band), K-pop, Real Person Fiction, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: 12 years time span, Angst, F/M, Falling In Love, Love, Moving On, Past Relationship(s), Past/Present, Regret, Reminiscing, Romance, Separation, crackship, jirose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:27:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25044622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangerinelights/pseuds/tangerinelights
Summary: In the winter of 2008, Chaeyoung and Jimin wishes upon a dragonfly. Eight years later, it dies.
Relationships: Park Chaeyoung | Rosé/Park Jimin (BTS)
Kudos: 6





	1. the future us (i)

**Author's Note:**

> \- jirose! (jimin x rosé)  
> \- this was originally "the past and future us": revamped!! so it'll be good idea to reread the 00. the future us (i) again hehe  
> \- @charlislekim on wp/aff!  
> \- @tangerinelights on twt!

###  **WINTER, 2020**

The irony of the circumstances surrounding their first meeting four years after their separation is not lost on Chaeyoung.

It's the same transportation that brought them together before and brings them together now - a train stuck in the middle of nowhere because of bitter ice and biting winds. The same reason behind their appearances on the train: a visit to their hometowns. And most of all, the same person staring back at her - Jimin.

The years they were apart clearly treated him well. He's wearing a long black coat, made of such good material that even from a few meters away, she can tell it's probably worth thousands, if not millions, of wons. Her eyes travel from his shoulder to the silver watch glinting on his wrist to the sleek brown briefcase to the beige trousers and finally to the polished black shoes that might as well acted as his mirror. Sophisticatedly put together: his physical appearance is almost intimidating in a way, something even the pale yellow lights of the hotel lobby can't mess with. But, most of all, it's the way he strides: his back is straighter and his chin is lifted, not tucked against his neck in defeat.

And as they look at each other, the only thought running through Chaeyoung's head is whether he recognizes her. But he must. There's no possible way he can't. When you've spent a better part of your lives in your significant other's embrace - brushing soft lips against even softer skin, whispering heartwarming promises, and shouting each other's deepest and most hopeful dreams to the starry night sky - you don't just simply forget. No matter how bad the separation was, or how much time has passed. Because they're ingrained in a suppressed part of yourself.

She didn't have to worry, though. His leg inches forward a bit; the hand not carrying the briefcase flutters against his upper thigh. It's a mirror of the past: him making the first move and her being caught off guard. Their eyes are doing a dance of their own - connecting and then flitting to a safer target, an object incapable of rejection or agony, before slowly traveling back to their true desires.

Another small step forward. One more pause. A deep exhale, chest heaving-

"Excuse me, miss, I don't think I got your ticket."

Chaeyoung snaps out of her thoughts, finally realizing that the receptionist has been trying to get her attention for the past two minutes. Her heart is pounding, cold sweat forming in every possible dip and nook of her body, so it takes a while for her to understand. "Sorry. What?"

"May I check your ticket?"

"Oh, right. Of course." Fingers shaking a bit, she fumbles with the clasp of her backpack, finally successfully bringing out her wallet and picking out the thin slip of paper. She holds it out to the receptionist, who scans the printed words, and points to an area at the very right corner of the lobby.

"Please move there. We'll try to get you a room as soon as possible, but since you have a general ticket, I'm afraid that you will have to wait," the lady instructs before moving onto the next stranded passenger.

This leaves the space in front of Chaeyoung empty again.

Suddenly, she doesn't want to look back up, her previous courage fleeing. If he had continued his walk, then plenty of time would have passed for him to close the distance, making this whole situation seem more real than before. Yet, at the same time, her brain is sending signals to every nerve in her body. Look up! Look up! Look up! There's an undercurrent of urgency, for her to seize this moment before it flies away and she's left with regret.

So, before she can second guess herself, she does, her breath catching at the sight of him standing a person's span away from her.

(Up close, Chaeyoung doesn't fail to realize that his smile is a straight line, barely lighting his face like it used to do.)

Just as quickly as before, she wants to rewind time because she has no words to say, only hooded stares and hesitant smiles. Friends reuniting after many years will usually hug, laugh, ask a few questions, and maybe even cry. But everything about that is so casual, so unfitting with a person who she once sacrificed financial stability for. So, she's stuck. And seeing his mouth part with no actual sound, she knows he's feeling the same way.

Tick tock

A second stretches to an eternity.

Finally, he greets her, "Hi, Chaeyoung."

Relieved that the silence is finally broken, she replies, "Hi, Jimin." Before they can lapse back into that state, she looks around, desperate to find a topic, and sees people huddling in the corner the receptionist had directed her to go. "Are you also part of the economy class?"

His gaze, with its familiar dark brown color, but unfamiliar distance and dullness, steadily pierces her when he replies, "No. I have a first class ticket."

Chaeyoung grins, though it looks more like a grimace. Of course, she had been foolish to even think that he would buy a general ticket, not when his one and only film broke records, inspired millions of reviews, and garnered billions of wons. (Maybe it was because despite his success, in her eyes, he would always be the young boy, sitting in the cracked walls and dirty floor of their apartment, who dreamed of not glory or fame, but the simplistic enjoyment of making film.)

He shifts, leaning on his left, before switching to the other direction.

And... they're back to staring at each other.

Then, at the same time, as if the balloon finally burst, both of them unable to bear the awkward silence, they speak.

"The weather has-"

"I guess all-"

Abruptly stopping, they both laugh, the first real smiles stretching their faces.

"You go first," Jimin says.

Chaeyoung points to the entrance of the hotel, at the bright light piercing through the glass doors that illuminated all the individual snowflakes flurrying around in the night sky. "The weather has been so good for the past few days, yet, it chooses today to start vomiting out snow." She sighs. "Almost like that day-"

Fuck.

Jimin is about to finish the sentence when he realizes what she was going to say, his mouth slowly closing and the smile falling off his face.

And... they're slipping back into that awkward dance, except there's no melody or beat. Only unanswered questions, what-if's, and frayed ends.

"All passengers who have a first class ticket! Please come to the front counter."

Chaeyoung would have cried in relief, kissed whoever said those two sentences. It was clearly a mistake to think they were going to act normal, to continue to be friends.

Jimin looks back, then points to the counter. "Well..." He blinks, as if searching for the proper goodbye. "... I guess I'll see you later?"

She doubts that's going to happen, but she nods. For a second, he's wavering, hands reaching inside his pockets to pull out a tiny rectangle shape, before coughing, roughly shoving his hands back inside, and briskly leaving.

When he's finally gone from sight, Chaeyoung leans back in her seat and closes her eyes, reluctantly letting out a tiny laugh. It was only a second, but she swore he saw him bring out a stack of business cards. And that was so Jimin, so like him to always be the one wanting more, that she almost chokes on the familiarity, on the fact that she still knows all his little gestures.

And unwillingly, her brain decides to recount all their memories, every time they squeezed each other's hands, cuddled against the cold, and hugged through all the hardships. All the while, Chaeyoung drowns, sinking into a deep abyss of everything she wants - no, covets - but can't have. As the minutes tick by, somehow, lulled by the better moments, she dozes off, only to be awakened a while later by the same person infiltrating her mind.

"You can use my room."

Groggily blinking and discreetly wiping drool from the corner of her mouth, Chaeyoung straightens, looking around in confusion. Although the sky is dark, there seems to be significantly less snow swirling from above than before. A quick sweep of the area confirms that most of the passengers, spread out on makeshift beds or sprawled across multiple chairs, haven't found a room, yet. "What time is it?"

Holding out his phone, Jimin says, "Midnight."

She frowns, standing up and peering at the front counter. They had warned her about the long wait, but three hours later and not even a single word about room availability was a bit too much. Grabbing her suitcase, she's about to leave when a tap on her shoulder freezes her.

It's such a gentle touch, just a mere hover. Creating the sensations a person will feel if a cat lightly brushes past: the slightest pressure, the smallest recognition of heat, and the lingering desire for more softness. But by the way her body's firing and waking up - the shivers and the sudden rush of heat - any person would think that their bodies are flush against each other. It's almost embarrassing that he still has that effect on her.

He steps back, putting so much distance between them that she was positive he regretted his action. (It's almost comical that she also recognizes his tendency to act first, think second.) "It's no use. They ran out of rooms, but I'll share my room with you."

And she surprises herself by saying yes. It's such a quick and unexpected answer that even he stammers a croaky "follow me." But, at the same time, Jimin has always been the only person capable of eliciting such a reaction out of here. And four years without any personal touches from him had made her starving, ravenous. (Not that she thinks they're going to the hotel for that purpose. It was like an impulse, as involuntary as breathing.)

When they walk into the corridors, Jimin asks, "How have you been?"

Not really well.

"Really well."

This time, his voice is deep and thick when he whispers, "I kept my promise."

A hand is squeezing her heart so hard, it's a surprise she's still capable of breathing and walking. She remembers that night as clear as if it happened yesterday: the contrast between their hot breath, mouth, and embraces. The sweetness of their promises, confessions, dreams. It's so vivid, flashing across her brain in bright colors and intense emotions, that she needs to rapidly blink away incoming tears.

"It's fate, isn't it, that brought us together ten years ago and today."

Chaeyoung doesn't know how to reply because by that logic, fate also ripped them apart, as if they were doomed from the beginning. And the thought is unpleasant, to know that their love wasn't strong enough to survive any obstacles. Or maybe it's much worse to think that they are meant to be, but did it wrong. Nevertheless, heart scrambled, she continues walking, and Jimin doesn't probe for an answer, silently leading the way to his room.

She's at the doorway of room 1065 when she realizes that there's only one bed. And like being doused with cold water, all her previous desire leaves in a second. "Actually, it's fine. Thanks for your offer, but I'll just sleep out in the lobby."

Stepping into the room, Jimin turns around, leaning against the edge of a table. For a second, he's quiet, simply staring at her, making her so nervous that she's about to leave, not bothering to wait for a reply. Then, he says, "Afraid I'm going to be a bother?"

Chaeyoung freezes, hands tightening on the handle of her suitcase. "More like I'm going to be a bother for you."

"You've never been a bother to me." He's barely whispering, so quiet that even the drone of the air conditioner in the background is louder than him. The only reason why she clearly hears him is because every sense, every cell, every nerve in her body is hyper-attuned to him. "In the ten years I've known you, I've never felt that way."

He's going down that route. The dangerous one. It opens old wounds, and forces her to relive all the moments she would rather give up, even if it meant they never happened. And, Chaeyoung, who has always chosen to confront and fight rather than submit, has this intense urge to escape. So, she's moving.

Jimin humorlessly laughs. "You have never been the type to run, but for some reason, that's all you've been doing for the past four years."

Putting one foot ahead of another, she feels a furious indignation choking her throat, stealing her ability to convey coherent sentences and thoughts. She knows he's speaking the truth, but nonetheless, it's so hypocritical for the person who turned a blind eye on all the things that mattered to lecture her.

"I'll sleep on the ground. We also can't leave until tomorrow morning anyways. I'll even drive you back to Ulsan."

"I'm going to have to decline."

Her rejection seems to cause Jimin to become desperate, almost tripping on the way to the doorframe. He gulps before begging, "Please. This can be our proper goodbye."

That stops her.

Seeing that he finally has her attention, he scrambles to say, "Everyone deserves a closure. Let's have our's before it's too late."

Closure.

In truth, she needs that to move on. To get rid of all those sleepless nights when she's swamped by what could've been better possibilities. To stop agonizing over his feelings, doubting whether his love was real or not. And most of all, to comfortably establish a future without him. It's like reading a cliffhanger and then having the story end there, leaving the readers greedy for more and more.

"One night and a six hour car ride to Ulsan, then we'll separate, this time without any bitter feelings."

Without a word, she steps into the room and closes the door, ignoring the way Jimin's eyes widen with hope, the way the corner of his mouth softly curls up. "Where do we start?"


	2. a lucky delay (i)

###  **WINTER, 2008**

"Ticket, please."

Chaeyoung scowled, staring through a sheen of sweat at the paper bags and boxes scattered across the aisle. Although not obligated to buy these gifts, after months and months of her siblings pleading for something that was Seoul-authentic, she didn't have the heart to say no. Now, however, she was regretting her decision. Not only was her bank account drained, but the conductor, spotting her shoving everything back into her overstuffed duffel bag, had accused her of smuggling goods.

"It's here," she muttered, digging her hands into the contents. It didn't help that the weak light filtering from in between plumes of grey clouds did nothing to illuminate the ticket she had unconsciously thrown to the bottom of her bag once she passed through security. "Somewhere. I know I put it in-"

"Agassi, I don't have all day, so if you can't find it in the next minute, I have no choice but to ask you to leave."

"I promise it's here!" she protested. But the previous positivity that her ticket hadn't fluttered away in the wind was slowly disappearing, leaving behind a murky and unshakeable mud of dread. If she was really kicked out of the train, then her only opportunity to see her family would disappear, meaning she would have to wait until next year before-

"Here's her ticket."

A diety.

At least, that was her first thought: some god had taken pity on her. She didn't realize the voice was mundane, coming from behind her, until it repeated - "I have her ticket." Hands pausing, she whirled around to see the vague shape of a man, edges blurring and blending into the dimness.

When he noticed her gaze on him, he smiled, quickly scanning the rectangle piece of paper. "Park Chaeyoung-ssi. Am I right?"

She nodded.

Holding out the ticket, he addressed the conductor with a satisfied grin. "Here."

Five minutes later, after the conductor scanned the ticket and confirmed her identity, Chaeyoung was struggling to zip the bag close again, cursing at every bump and ridge that prevented her from succeeding. "How did you find the ticket?"

"I heard you from a kilometer away and coincidentally glanced down in time to find your escaped victim."

She groaned. "Was I that loud?"

"Just for the last five minutes." He knelt down and observed her bag. "Planning to run away?"

"What?"

Tentatively, he poked a box that was bulging against the fabric. "You have more stuff than all my belongings combined."

"I have a lot of siblings."

His eyebrow raised to his hairline. "And you're providing for all of them?"

Swiping away a wisp of hair stuck to her sweaty neck, Chaeyoung shook her head, suddenly feeling very ungenerous. "No. They're just really greedy."

"You must love them, then, if you agreed to fulfill their greedy wishes."

Tugging on the stubborn zipper, she shrugged. "Maybe, or I was just annoyed by-"

The train jerked, the high-pitched screech of metal sliding against metal filling the air, throwing her off balance. For a second, besides being able to clearly see each ball of dust and strand of hair stuck on the ground, she thought the pointy edges of the boxes digging into her ribs was the worst consequence until heat enveloped her back. It belonged to the man, sprawled on top of her, crushing not only her lungs but also the bag.

"Shit," he cursed, scrambling off her. "I'm so sorry."

Chaeyoung shot back, heart sinking as she accessed the condition of her packages. Today was proving to be a bad day to travel, made even worse by every passenger's sudden desire to stand up and shout.

"What's happening?!"

"Kai! Did you see that?"

"I think we're-"

"Fuck, I can't be late."

Before long, the small train descended into chaos, babies crying and children running back to their parents. Conductors sprinted to each passenger, advising them to stay calm so they could effectively access the situation. They offered a vague explanation of snow and ice, but she wasn't sure because the man was hefting her bag up and gently tugging on her arm, nodding at the direction of an empty train booth. "Come on. I'll help you organize everything once we're safely away from the mess."

Mind whirling from the past few minutes, she absently nodded, standing up and following his lead. Along the way, hit by the third stray backpack strap, she growled, sharply veering to the side, "Shit. Ulsan's trains are shit."

"Ulsan?" he repeated in surprise, sliding into an empty seat and putting her bag onto the ground with a slight thump. "You know that place?"

"I'm from there."

"You're lying." He scooted over to make space for her. Once she was comfortably situated in the rather stiff and scratchy seat, he said, "I'm also from there, but I've never talked to you before."

His surprise was understandable.

Ulsan: a tiny town tucked in the forgotten shadows of a mountain range, conveniently shielded from prevailing winds that stirred up thunderstorms in the east. It was such a small town that going for a quick grocery run probably meant running into not one but about nine familiar faces. A fancy diner meant eating fish cakes and tteokbokki at the outside canopies of red and yellow tents. There was no official store that sold appliances or electronics: just markets opened by families who could sell available products. It was a place where you could find the family's grandmother living next door to her great-grandson's cousin. A place that breeded dreamers who dared to move to bigger and busier cities, where opportunities thrived and inhabitants never retired for the night.

Nobody went there for vacation; in fact, most people didn't even know it existed until the train made its stop at Ulsan. The fact that the town had money to build a small train station nestled at the very edge of its boundary was a miracle. (They didn't build the tracks, though; those had been there for decades, even before the town was formed. Definitely why the train always groaned and wailed its way to Ulsan.)

"It's probably because I've never had the chance to play with people my age."

"Nonetheless." Seeing her reach for her bag, he slid it to the edge of her feet. "If you're from there, then you should know Park Eunjin, right? She lives at the intersection of the only-"

The last thing she wanted to do was interrupt, but sweat was dripping into her eyes, stingy and salty, so she held up a black box, asking, "Excuse me. Can you hold this for me?"

"Of course!" He took it and grimaced. "Sorry again."

Drying her forehead with her sleeve, she assured him, "It's fine. Accidents happen."

Grinning, he continued, "Anyways, as I was saying, you know Park Eunjin, right?"

"Of course, she always made the best taro buns and fried dough sticks." She flattened out a crumpled paper bag. "And if you're lucky, then you could also get some of her homemade soymilk for free."

"She's my mom."

Chaeyoung froze, so surprised that the paper bag she had just ironed became crumpled again. "No way." She pointed to Jimin, to an invisible point in the air, before drifting back to him, brain gears grinding in disbelief. "Eomeonim?!"

Jimin nodded. "The one and only."

"No way! You're talking about the person who gave me extra sandwiches because I went there with my siblings?!"

"That sounds like her. She's nice to everyone." Spotting another box that was crushed on the top, he frowned. "I should pay you back for these. How much are they worth?"

Firmly shaking her head, she snatched the boxes away. Besides, her mind was still blown, shocked that they had probably been two meters away from each other at certain points of her life. But, at the same time, anyone could be connected to someone else by the most far-fetched idea, and even coming from Seoul, she guessed nobody really escaped the tight grasp Ulsan had on people. It was a tangle of webs, sticky and complex.

"Please say an extra thanks for me."

"Eomma has a lot of customers so I'm not sure if she remembers you, but I'll make sure to put in a good word." He curiously peered into a paper bag before asking, "By the way, Park Chaeyoung-ssi?"

She nodded.

And then he flashed this ginormous smile, the kind that revealed all teeth and hid all eyes. "Nice to meet you. I'm Park Jimin."

There must have been a magnetic quality in that expression, something that naturally curved her lips up despite her frustrations. "What a coincidence. Eomma was actually going to give my brother the name that meant both ambitious and gentle"

"But a bit of a juxtaposition, don't you think?"

Putting the black box back into the bag, she joked, "Your parents try so hard to make your name meaningful and here you are, years later, decrediting all their effort." Jimin scowled, although by the way his mouth twitched, as if itching to go back up, she knew he wasn't actually mad. However, before he could reply, the faint ringing of her phone somehow cut through the mess and reached her ears.

A sixth sense told Chaeyoung that the other end was eomma, clad in her usual black slacks, beige blouse, and parka coat that has seen better days. She was probably leaning against the railing of her tiny balcony, holding a cup of steaming jeontong-cha, chilly winds painting her nose and cheeks red, as she gazed out into the horizon. Chaeyoung even knew the exact view - telephone wires haphazardly spewn across the sky, boxes of trash stacked against thick poles, and grey, black, red, white, blue buildings cramped a centimeter away from each other. The only time she had visited the call center, a tiny office sitting atop of a grocery store, she had left with a lasting impression of horror. Mostly because the working conditions were definitely not on par to the hours spent answering calls and updating spreadsheets. 

("A flip phone?' Eomma's weathered hands had opened and closed the top a few times, wrinkled forehead creasing even more as she studied the small device. "Why don't you get a Samsung or LG? You know, brands that everyone uses in Seoul?"

Chaeyoung scoffed, chopping the cucumbers into perfectly thin slices.

"Yah! I'm being serious." Putting down the phone, eomma grabbed the finished cucumbers, neatly placing them with the perilla leaves, ham, and rice. "How else will you fit in?"

"Eomma, look at me." When Chaeyoung felt dark brown eyes, worn from years of stress, find their destination, she straightened her shoulders, speeding up her knife and grinning. "Do you really think I'll let not fitting in destroy me?"

A groan filled the air, followed by a hefty sigh, then the tiniest "What do I do with you?")

Pressing the accept button, Chaeyoung balanced the box on her knee and bought the phone to her ear, turning away from Jimin to glance at the snow covering the landscape, its usual white intensity dulled by the weak sun rays. She barely had the chance to breathe a quick "hello" when eomma asked, "Are you safe? I overheard my coworkers talking about the snow."

"Besides being a bit late, I'm safe. On the other hand-" She quickly glanced at the four numbers on the top of her screen. "-shouldn't you be at your afternoon meeting? Why are you calling me?"

"Yes, but how could I not worry about my daughter?"

"You forget that I'm 21. I can take care of myself."

"No, I didn't forget; you're just so independent, it's scary. But, back to the topic, I won't be home until late because I agreed to take over an extra shift."

"Again?!" Chaeyoung exclaimed. "Aren't you tired?" One night, eomma had come home from work, dehydrated, trembling, and exhausted. Her suffering was also the whole family's pain, though. The difficulty of finding a nearby hospital, the hassle of calming down her four children, and the agony of paying off the hospital fees: it was a nightmare Chaeyoung never wanted to repeat.

Ignoring her protest, eomma continued, "So, I'll see you around ten. Your siblings and freshly-made cold noodles are waiting at home, though. Make sure you eat enough."

Naengmyeon... Chaeyouung reluctantly admitted, "Nobody in Seoul makes it like you."

A light chuckle filtered in through the cackling speaker. "Also, Jaegi is still waiting for you to find a suitable apartment, so I'm ordering you to stop putting that task off. Anyways, give me a call when you reach home."

And then before a goodbye could be exchanged, she hung up; Chaeyoung ended up staring at her own reflection in disbelief, feeling her blood start to uneasily turn again.

"Bad call?"

Jimin's voice was a slap back from reality.

"The usual," she said, leaning to the side. Except, she forgot about the black box still sitting on her knee. While slipping the device into her pocket, it toppled over the edge, lid popping open at the same time. A vomit of small rectangle cards spilled out, various creatures - all in different shape and color - revealing themselves.

Chaeyoung picked up the picture of a magnificent blue bird spreading its wings, hearing the echo of her youngest sibling's squeals after learning she would receive the legendary Pokemon, Articuno. However, instead of warmth, the sight only served to remind her of what she had to do at home. Was it fair to give so much to the rest of her siblings, yet withhold her brother from achieving the only goal he wanted in life? Probably not, but she didn't do it out of spite, more of-

"Digimon is definitely better."

Once again, his voice served as a pull back from reality. She looked at Jimin in surprise. "What?"

"I mean, Agumon had an attack called Pepper Breath! How cool is that?"

Chaeyoung gathered the stray cards, putting them into the black box. "Well, the name sounds silly, but I wouldn't know." She placed the box back into her duffel bag. "I never watched Digimon or Pokemon."

"No," Jimin breathed.

She looked at him with amusement. "Actually, yes."

"I can't believe that. They exploded in popularity when they came out in the 1990's, taking up every corner of every space!" Jimin crossed his arms, leaning back and studying her. "You know, this and the Ulsan statement is making me wonder. What else do you not know?"

Chaeyoung frowned. "I didn't live under a rock."

"Then, what happened in 1988?"

Satisfaction filling her when the zipper smoothly closed with the extra black box, she rolled her eyes. "Olympics."

Jimin laughed. "You're right, but that was too easy. How about this: what's TVXQ?"

"A boy band."

Narrowing his eyes, he stroked his bare chin, before shooting, "What medal did South Korea get in the 2001 East Asian Games?"

Chaeyoung was not a walking trivia book, but the reason why she knew this exact game, down to the names of each team and committed foul, was also the reason why she had a headache just five minutes ago.

At first, Jimin smirked, pounding his chest and saying, "See, I got you there!" However, when she merely grinned, either because he noticed it was brief and forced or stumbled upon a lucky guess, he stopped and leaned forward, propping himself up with his elbows and peering at her with concern. "Football is what made the phone call bad?"

She blinked. A second passed and in that quick moment, she finally had the chance to study his features. Black hair with a middle part cascaded to where his chin tapered to a sharp point. Round, luscious lips that seemed to be tainted with pink lipgloss, the Pororo ones children bought for 15 wons. And most of all, hooded eyes that retained a glow the grey atmosphere couldn't kill. But every eye had that small twinkle at the corner of its pupil. It wasn't extraordinary. Yet, for some reason, she was suddenly wrapped in a childhood blanket, soft fleece making her feel cared. She was seven again, curiously watching her parents lightly banter as they prepared her meal.

So, thrown off by his proximity, by the nurturing energy he was emitting, she went a world out of her lane, saying, "Not bad, just stressed."

"Shit." The word was so sudden that Chaeyoung flinched, thinking it was meant for her. Jimin noticed, shaking his head. "No, I meant, myself."

While she mulled over what that sentence meant, he dug into his backpack, taking out a yellow bag of chips, the crinkling plastic sounding ten times louder in their little compartment. "Here."

Chaeyoung was still disorientated. What just happened wasn't directly affectionate, nor bold, but it was something that if she was placed in the same position, would find awkward to execute. So, she absently grabbed the bag. That was, until she saw the punching banana logo and thrust it back out to him.

"They're for you."

"I know, but I don't like these."

His jaw dropped. "Huh, how?!"

Instead of answering, she bought out the only snack she packed in the midst of her bank account crisis. Opening the bag and throwing one into her mouth, she leaned back, about to enjoy the savory flavor that exploded with each crunch, when Jimin shook his head in disbelief. Pausing, she raised a brow. "What? Corn-soup chips are the best kind of snacks."

"Definitely not," Jimin protested, shaking his yellow bag of chips. "Banana kicks are the classics. Nothing can beat this."

"I beg to differ. Besides-" Chaeyoung pointed at the cartoon depiction of a beaming turtle on her bag. "-look at how cute it is!"

Pointing at the banana, he pretended to be hurt, voice becoming shrilly. "Now, you've just made it sad."

"I never called the banana ugly, though."

He pursed his lips, sighing. "I guess you're right." Nibbling on a yellow rod, he took a second to inspect her, saying right before it got uncomfortable, "So, you said you have a lot of siblings." When Chaeyoung nodded, he asked, "Do you, perhaps, have two youngers sisters who are also twins?"

She froze. "How do you know?"

"Ah," he grinned, swallowing another mouthful of chips. "I knew you looked familiar. Park Bora and Park Bomi."

Not knowing how to respond to the fact that he nailed their names, she asked, "Do they have black hair that barely reaches their shoulder? And about..." She gestured to an area right below her breasts. "... this tall?"

"I'm positive. The only way to tell them apart is by the black mole on Bomi's chin." Jimin scrunched up his bag of chips, depositing it into the cup holder of his backpack. "They also have a huge crush on me."

She wrinkled her nose. "Crush?"

"Hey! Don't sound so distasteful." But he grinned, saying, "At exactly five p.m., they would stop by and say hi, whether they're buying something or not."

"Seriously..." Chaeyoung tried to remember Bomi and Bora's daily schedule, but came up empty. "They never told me."

"Really? They come everyday. I've actually never seen anyone so studious."

Picking at the zipper of her duffel bag, she wondered why it was her first time hearing about this. Did everyone else know about this? Wait... Was this the only secret the twins were keeping? What if they had a whole life that Chaeyoung didn't know about? She frowned, a heavy cloud of uneasiness fogging her thoughts.

"Hey, Chaeyoung-ssi."

For the third time, snapped out of her thoughts, she looked up, forcing her mouth to form a smile in response to his goofy one.

"Do you want to know why your siblings have a crush on me?"

Blinking, she slowly nodded.

"I told them this joke." He exhaled. "Knock knock."

"Who's there?"

"Control freak."

"Cont-"

"This is when you say 'control freak who'!"

There was a short moment of silence, broken only by the quiet murmurs of other passengers, as Chaeyoung tried to understand the joke and Jimin eagerly waited for her reaction. Then, as if through some silent communication, they both dissolved into giggles at the same time.

Her own laughter, high-pitched and wispy, was a contrast to Jimin's more rounded-out cackles, but just as firm and genuine. The kind of laughter that left no room to breath, but plenty of opportunities for her stomach to start aching. She laughed so hard, the world disappeared and it was just her, him, his joke, and her tears. One minute. Three minutes. Five. Finally, she calmed down, deeply exhaling and slumping back into her seat, every muscle sagging. A sigh of content escaped her, allowing all her stress and frustration to dissipate into the air. And in that quiet peace, Chaeyoung remembered how she met Jimin. 

"Thank you for finding my ticket."

"You're welcome."

It wasn't until her eyes began to drift close, everything slowly becoming a blurry, muted picture, that she realized the train had already started rolling.

For how long?

She wasn't sure.


	3. a lucky delay (ii)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just in case it's not clear, we're still in the winter of 2008! also, we're probably going to be in the past for around 12 chapters until we travel back to the future, so the book will have two pretty distinct parts:)))

When Chaeyoung opened her eyes, hesitating in the hazy, kaleidoscopic realm between conscious and unconscious, the first thing she caught was the scent of laundry detergent and morning dew in the countryside. Disorientated, she glanced at the condensation clouding the window, momentarily filled with a surge of gratitude that she was cocooned by a toasty warmth and not outside shivering in the low temperature. Finally, yawning, in the midst of rubbing her eyes, she found herself leaning against Jimin’s shoulder, bodies so close his hair tickled her forehead. 

Awareness was the screech of nails against a chalkboard.

She shot back, bumping into his chin. With his sole support gone, Jimin’s body dipped; the sudden change in position must’ve jolted him awake because his head bounced a few times before snapping back up. Cursing, he drowsily blinked and rubbed his bottom jaw, eyes wide with confusion and hair a floppy mess. The whole time, she scooted away, the edges of the armrest digging into her lower back. 

“What…” He paused, caught off guard by what she presumed was her expression because his eyes darted up and down her face. “Is there something wrong? Why do you look so pale?”

“I fell asleep against you.”

“Right.” He scratched the base of his neck, sheepishly saying, “Sorry if that made you uncomfortable. I must’ve-”

“But I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh.” A second passed; then, he gestured to the space between them. “Did I… Did I do anything with you? In my sleep? If I did, I’m really sorry.”

She exhaled, realizing what he said was true. This wasn’t cheating: not when she didn’t do this on purpose, not when he was clueless. Waking up against another man when her boyfriend was waiting for her in Seoul didn’t leave a good taste in her mouth, but it was against their wills. So, she couldn’t blame him. “No, it’s fine. I was just shocked.”

“Ah… regardless, I’m sorry.” There was a moment of silence. Chaeyoung thought about what to say next when he clapped his hands together, the sound like a bomb, and smiled, as if the few seconds of awkwardness didn’t just happen. “Okay, so we should be at the station by now, but-” He glanced around. “-the train isn’t moving.”

Relieved by the switch of topic, she leaned over the armrest, waving a hand into the aisle. When help arrived, she asked, “Is the train stuck again?”

The conductor nodded, apologizing. 

“Is there help coming?”

“We’ve been having problems finding service in the middle of nowhere, plus the snow that fell for the past hour made the whole situation worse. So, we will most likely be stuck here for a night.”

Chaeyoung thought of her family and the naengmyeon waiting at home. “Are you sure there’s no other options?”

“Once again, we’re really sorry, but that’s the best accommodation we can currently provide for everyone.”

“But…” She trailed off. What was she supposed to do? Shake the conductor until the train started moving? Throw a fit? No, there was no other solution. Still, the previous frustration clawed its way back from the ground, gripping her body and refusing to let go. 

Just then, Jimin quickly leaned over, asking, “How long until we get to Ulsan?”

“Thankfully, not that far. Probably around twenty minutes.”

Jimin nodded, settling back into his seat with a grin. “Thanks.” When the conductor left, he typed something into his phone before asking, “So, are you up for an adventure?”

“Adventure?”

“Mhm. The train travels at about 50 kilometers per hour. The conductor said we’re about 20 minutes away from Ulsan, so walking there would probably take around 2 hours.”

“You want to walk back?!”

“Or would you rather sleep on this uncomfortable train?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Not really, but…”

“Why should we suffer the whole night sitting on these stiff seats when Ulsan is so close by, right? Besides, we had our fair share of exercise while growing up, so the walk shouldn’t be too bad.”

The idea sounded appealing, Chaeyoung was never hesitant of some sweat and grit, but spending two hours with a stranger, surrounded by snow and more snow, wasn’t the smartest decision. Based on their interactions, he seemed like a good person, but every psychopath also charmed the people they planned to kill.

He glanced at his phone again. “We’ll be at Ulsan by seven, the latest, so by the time the sun sets, we’ll be at a familiar area.” Then, reaching inside his pocket, he took out a wallet, the leather already starting to peel, and showed her his ID. “I swear, I’m not planning to kill you in a forest. I really am Park Eunjin’s son.”

Chaeyoung studied the name, the birth date, and the picture. 

Putting away his ID, he took out another card. “Here’s my university ID card.”

Once again, she studied the information, noting that he went to Seoul National University. 

“Believe me now?”

She reluctantly nodded, then asked, “How are we finding our way home?”

He grinned. “Following the train track.”

Oh, that made sense. 

“I’m planning to walk home anyways.” Jimin put on his backpack and stood up, tugging on his mittens. “But I prefer to have company so-” He paused, and then gasped so loud she jumped. Plastering himself against the window, he rubbed the fog off the glass and pointed to a groove of trees, bare branches clawing and reaching for the sky. “Holy shit, Chaeyoung-ssi! Look! That’s a musk deer!”

She scooted over, peering out to see one magnificent creature with a light brown hide, two perky ears, four petite legs, and liquid honey brown eyes staring directly at her. And when her gaze traveled to its snout, to the large black nose, and even lower, she mimicked Jimin’s cry of surprise. Two white fangs, each as thick as cucumber and as long as chopstick, protruded out from its mouth, menacingly arching over the under jaw and ending in sharp points. 

“They’re spotted every once in a blue moon, so I really thought these rumored vampire deer were fake!”

Chaeyoung shuddered. “It sucks blood?”

“Actually, no.” When he turned to look at her, she swore he saw his eyes twinkle with the force of a thousand stars. “It’s a herbivore and only uses its fangs to defend.”

“Seriously.” She glanced back at the musk deer, now seeing that it was chewing on something that looked suspiciously similar to mosses and lichen. “The fangs must be a bother then.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.” Jimin flattened himself against the front seats, stepping out into the aisle to lean on the backrest. His smile was a lick of flame, burning bright and hot, the last step before skydiving into the unknown. Or, in his words, an adventure. “Coming?”

(Sometimes, looking back, she wondered if this was the starting line. The moment he unknowingly became the hand slowly tugging her to step out of the boundaries of her box. If this never happened, would she have later desired for something more, always more and more, unsatisfied with her previous lifestyle? )

Standing up, fitting her luggage around her body, she said, “I need to get back to my family, so let’s not waste time.”

“You bet.” 

It took ten minutes for them to explain to the conductor their decision, press the button, and step out into the never-ending expanse of the white world, ignoring the curious stares of other passengers. 

Unfortunately, by the time they found the window of their train compartment, the musk deer was gone, leaving behind four hoof prints and a disappointed Jimin. Fortunately, the snow was made up of wet and heavy flakes, instead of the fluffy ones that piled up and hid dangerous trenches. Their boots made crispy crunches with each step, leaving behind deep indentations that would be there until someone else came, erased, and made new history.

“The perfect recipe for a snowball fight,” Jimin had remarked, nudging a pile of snow with the toe of his boots. 

That was about forty minutes ago, when the cold still hadn't seeped between the cracks of her woven mittens. Now, her fingers were close to being numb and even without checking, dark red. She stuffed them into her pockets, took them out again when the insides were just as chilly. Sniffing, she folded them into her armpits. Then, she performed a whole body check. Her toes were fine, since she had long ago known that flexing it every other second would keep the blood flowing. Lips were cracked, but that wasn’t the end of the world. The only exposed part of her body left was her neck, which would’ve been covered if she had remembered to grab her scarf in the midst of this morning’s chaos.

Scowling, Chaeyoung shivered and rolled her shoulders up to her ear.

And like before, with eyes of a hawk, Jimin asked, “Cold?” She shook her head, but he was already unraveling the red scarf from his neck, bunching it in his hand and holding it out. “Here.”

“No, it’s fine, really, I don’t need-”

“Don’t worry about me.” Jimin threw the scarf onto her shoulder. “I’m a naturally warm person.”

Snorting, she grabbed the scarf and thrust it to him. “Everyone is a warm person.”

Instead of accepting, he swung his backpack to the front, unzipping the biggest pocket. Another scarf, the exact same pattern but with orange yarn, emerged from the top of his belongings. One corner of his mouth smoothly lifted up, curving in a way that screamed I-know-what-I’m-doing. Circling it around his neck, he explained, “Eomma has always been ahead of her game.” 

She suddenly had this desire to meet his mom. Good at cooking, skilled at knitting beautiful garments, and considerate with everyone living in Ulsan: those qualities sounded like everyone’s dream mom. 

Looping the scarf around her neck, Chaeyoung marveled at the soft yarn, at the accuracy and detail of each stitch and pattern, at the scent that had clouded her senses when she woke up next to Jimin now embracing her. From the corners of her eyes, she sneaked a glance at him, studying the eyelashes that seemed to naturally curl up to the sun, as if a sapling seeking for light, the nose bridge that gently sloped up and down a few times. From the way his eyebrows furrowed and eyes darted around, he was probably observing the environment with a kind of rapid fixation, the world his textbook and him a starving scholar. She guessed that it would take a black hole to pull him back from his own universe.

In truth, from the very beginning, she had thought he was making a move on her. It was in the way he maneuvered conversations, filled with carefree smiles and genuine curiosity: after all, nobody was that open in an era dominated by the attractions of wireless and easily-accessible apps. His insane ability to help people relax: that, surely, was also another quality people would fall in love with. However, the fact that he acted the same even after she told him about her boyfriend seemed to change the game. Maybe he was an open person at heart, someone who treated everyone like they crafted galaxies and painted milky ways with their bare hands.

“You’re staring at me.” He turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised. “Is there something on my face?”

“Oh.” She whipped back to face the front, a bit embarrassed that she was caught. “Sorry. I was distracted.”

When silence descended between them, they weren’t two forlorn strangers trekking through snow. Instead, an ease that existed between two childhood friends seemed to connect them, and Chaeyoung almost forgot that she had met him only a few hours ago. The lightness of their moods was such a contrast to the murky skies above them that a thunderstorm could’ve formed from the difference in pressure. Even her breath lingered in the air after each exhale, as if wanting to stay in this world and keep them company for a bit longer. The winter weather really does change depending on the circumstances, Chaeyoung thought, flashing back to that particular winter when the shrill whistle of the wind grew louder than her family’s laughter in a house.

In the middle, Jimin had randomly asked, “You know, now that I think about this whole thing, it’s fate bringing us together, right?” When Chaeyoung snorted, he only winked. “I mean, out of all days, it so happens to be today that you lose your ticket and the train stops.” 

Chaeyoung shrugged. “I guess.”

And her response marked the end of that conversation.

Twenty minutes later, Jimin said, “Hold up,” before darting to the nearest tree trunk and setting down his backpack. Slowing to a stop, she curiously peeked at what he was doing, but his back hid whatever made his arms fly.

Then, before Chaeyoung could protest, or even use her arms as a shield, he whirled around and flung his arm in a perfect arc. A snowball soared through the sky and landed on her chest with a splatter, individual snowflakes flying up her nose and into the folds of the scarf. Flinching, she shrieked and jumped back, luggage bumping into her butt, reminding her that she had to put down her fragile packets. “You didn’t just do that.”

“I think I did-” He cocked his arm back again. “-and I’m doing it again!” 

This time, she was prepared, but still not fast enough to fully dodge the bullet. It slammed into her left thigh, leaving behind a dark spot. “Jimin-ssi!” she screamed, bending down to scoop some snow. “You’re going to regret this.”

Jimin crouched in defense, a devious glint in his eyes. “Bring it on.”

“Oh, I will. Definitely. Because-” She faked a throw, smirking when he jumped backwards. “-I’m throwing it twice as hard.” Then, all her muscles flexing, she shot that ball straight forward, which although didn’t hit the intended target, still managed to make him fall on his butt with an oof. 

“Woah, I definitely just lost,” he said, jaw dropping, hands digging into the deep snow to find traction. “Where have you been hiding those muscles?”

Chaeyoung wiped the excess snow from her mittens. “Underneath my cloth?” When he narrowed his eyes, she grinned. “I’ve been chopping wood and defending goals since I was young.”

“Defending goals?” Standing up, he dusted off his body and picked up his backpack. 

“Football with my brother,” she clarified. 

They fell back into their easy walk when he commented, “I’m assuming that your brother, football, and the stressful call are all connected?” 

Surprised that he remembered, she was also surprised by her hesitant nod.

“I hope I’m not prying, but did he accidentally kick someone instead of the ball?”

“No. More like he’s kicking the ball into the wrong goal…” Tucking her hair behind her ear, she said, “A goal that won’t guarantee a full stomach and warm houses.”

“Ah!” Jimin scratched his cheek. “A wrong hobby? But doesn’t that sound contradictory to you? How could a hobby be wrong?”

“A hobby in itself isn’t wrong, but society makes it wrong.” 

Hands curling into fists, he made some aggressive punching motions into empty air. “Then, you defeat society.”

She snorted, a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Forgive me, but our strength alone isn't enough.”

“Based on the snowball you just threw at me, I think it is.” He swiped a hand through his hair, grinning. “Take me for example, I’m majoring in film, probably going to end up with loads of debt, but making it up by working a bunch of part-time jobs.” When he saw her surprise, he tilted his head. “Oh, right, we never talked about this. I’m a senior, graduating next August and hopefully entering the industry as a video editor.”

“Wow. That’s-”

He interrupted, teasing, “Impressive?” 

She nodded.

Laughing, he stepped over a fallen log. “I was joking, but I’m glad you think so. What about you?”

“I’m a realtor, got my license about two years ago.”

His eyes widened. “That’s just as impressive.”

Shrugging, she explained, “Not really, I dropped out of college and the profession isn’t hard to enter.” 

“Hey, don’t look down at yourself. You made it out of Ulsan and became a realtor. So many people dream of that in our little town.” 

Somehow, his words made it seem like she was the president of the country or something. “If you put it that way, then I guess.”

“Believe me, I’m saying the truth.” Jimin said, readjusting his backpack. “Anyways, the point I was trying to make is that anyone can make anything work, as long as they’re passionate enough.”

Chaeyoung couldn’t accuse Jimin of telling lies, but his perspective seemed to be the view of someone looking through a rose-tinted glass and reality rarely worked that way. 

“I mean,” he clarified. “I don’t love part-time jobs, but I’ll gladly endure those long hours for what I love to do. And I’m sure your brother feels the same way.”

“Makes sense.” She sighed. “But it’s fine. We’ll sort everything out.” Wanting to change the subject, she asked, ducking underneath a branch loaded with snow, “So, are you aiming for a big entertainment company in the movie industry?”

“It sounds nice, but that’s not my dream.” At this exact moment, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, sky exploding with millions of brilliant rays. The slants of light traveled down to Earth, casting its wonder upon the naked trees and them, shadows morphing and connecting as one. With his dusky skin painted in gold, the exact color that represented prosperity and wealth, Chaeyoung almost believed this was a god’s prophecy. He casually kicked a pile of snow, the chunks gracefully arcing in the air before falling with a thump, and said, “Independently. I’ve always wanted to produce films about human nature, almost like a journal but in documentation form.”

And as he explained the exact type of story he wanted to bring to life, like a cat lounging under the afternoon sun but basking in the waves of energy he was throwing off instead of heat, Chaeyoung felt her hands ache to do something, anything. 

“But I’m speaking way ahead of myself,” Jimin said at the end, tilting his head back and squinting up at the sun, eyelashes kissing his skin. “For now, I just want to succeed as a movie editor. Learn more skills and gain more experience. All that jazz.”

And feeling her blood rush faster, her own inspiration rising, she wondered if their small town could contain Park Jimin and his dream that required money, technology, and networking. (Even if he wanted to stay, his brain would’ve been too big, too ambitious to happily stay in the narrow boundaries of Ulsan.) Wondered if that body could contain Park Jimin, the exhilaration that must run through his veins every second of every day of every year. 

In the last fifteen minutes of their adventure, they talked about everything and nothing, about whether Lee Minho or Kim Soo Hyun was more attractive, about their country’s steadily deteriorating economy during the fourth quarter of the year, about the reason behind human’s need to sleep. Once again, time passed in a blink of an eye. 

By the time they arrived at the train station, the sun was starting to give away to dusk, patchy plumes of grey and blue clouds painting the sky a fleeting, broken picture. In a corner near the entrance, paper flyers advertising secondhand clothes and cheap tutors fluttered against bulletin boards that were more black than brown. Several meters from the advertisement board, past the family restroom, an operator sat behind a plastic window, crossed ankles resting on a battered wooden table and head lolling from side to side. Somewhere, in the distance, a train, carrying seventy-something passengers sat abandoned in the midst of a winter wonderland or nightmare, depending on one’s perspective. 

In simpler words, everything was shifting, moving. 

But for Chaeyoung and Jimin, facing each other next to the train tracks, baby hairs plastered against their forehead with sweat, time seemed to freeze for the sole purpose of allowing them to remember the six blissful hours they had spent together. 

“How tired are you?”

The straps of her duffel bag were probably imprinting a red welt onto her shoulders. Her lower back had an ache that would definitely spread and become a knife overnight. Sweat was dripping into the scarf, dampening the fleece of her parka, and gathering in the hem of her pants. Yet, she had never felt more alive. “I’ll make it back home without collapsing.”

He nodded. “That’s good.”

“Well, then,” she said, backing away. “Thank you for this.”

“Yep, of course.” He turned around, about to walk away, when his leg froze mid-stride. Whirling around to face her again, he asked, “Will I be seeing you again?”

She paused. “If you want.”

“I want to.”

A small smile reluctantly spread across her face. “I live on the fifth floor of Jongno Apartment Complex, or…” She tightened her grip on her duffel bag. “You know I love your restaurant.”


	4. the warmest feeling

The walk back from the train station proved just how stagnant Ulsan was, in the way that all the landmarks from ten years ago were still present. 

Chaeyoung carefully picked her way around the piles of brick and trash to pass the public outhouses; she had long ago gotten used to balancing precariously over deep toughs, so desensitized that the pungent odor people normally gagged on only caused her to wrinkle her nose. Then, past the outhouses, down rows of hanok, traditionally-styled red houses, were the open vendors that acted like a mall in Seoul, a hotspot for teenagers seeking young love. And then, not even a few minutes later, she was surrounded by a circle of apartments, hundreds of balconies, clustered with clothesline, scrap metals, and discarded furniture, allowing families to exchange quick words in the air. 

Having spent every waking and sleeping hour in this sleepy town, she should’ve felt a sense of belonging, yet, everytime she came back from Seoul, she felt like an intruder. As if it was a betrayal for her to leave this town in the dust, while she went to someplace better. As if it would laugh at her if she came back with nothing but failure and debt. 

By the time Chaeyoung opened the door to her apartment, she was exhausted. It was a struggle not to drop her luggage and even more of a nuisance not to flop into bed with her boots on, especially since her legs shook the entire time. 

In the midst of her struggle, a shout came out of nowhere.

“Unnie, you’re back!” 

Before Chaeyoung could warn her youngest sister of her sore and aching muscles, Park Chaewon crashed into her, noodle-thin arms that surprisingly contained a grown person’s amount of strength wrapping around her midriff. And although her whole body screamed in protest, Chaeyoung reciprocated the hug, catching a whiff of vanilla shampoo, the kind bought for six thousand wons from a stranger’s doorway.

“I missed you.” The wobble in Chaewon’s voice wasn’t muffled by the way her face was smashed against the thick parka. 

Smoothing frizzy hair down, Chaeyoung murmured words of affection into a forehead she grew up giving goodnight kisses to. Nostalgia filled her heart; there was something reassuring about her, something innocent, something that always reminded her of nights filled with untainted laughter and kimchi made with seven pairs of hands.

“Noona.”

If Chaewon represented the warmth of a hearth, then Park Jaegi, the second oldest sibling, symbolized transformation, the change associated with the flowing river of time. His voice had morphed from the nasally squeak of a pubescent boy to the deep vibrating growl of a young man. And what had once been knobbly knees and skinny arms were now sturdy bones and solid muscles, achieved from years of soccer and manual work. 

“What happened? Eomma was really worried.”

“The train froze in the middle of nowhere. Signals were bad out there, so I couldn’t call anyone. And, then, I guess I forgot.”

Bending over, he heaved the duffel bag over his shoulder. “Forgot? That’s a first.”

Pulling away from Chaewon’s hug, Chaeyoung glanced down at her outfit; she definitely would’ve labelled this whole day as the product of her dream, if it wasn’t for the darker areas indicating where the snow had melted. “It’s probably because I walked back from the train.”

His eyebrows seemed to fly to the sky. “What?”

With no desire to recount the whole adventure to Jaegi, who didn’t even try to conceal his dislike of her current relationship and constantly seeked “better” candidates, Chaeyoung said, “Long story short, the train is probably still stuck in the middle of nowhere, waiting for a mechanic to come and rescue it.” 

“So, you decided to walk home by yourself?!”

Chaeyoung hesitated, debating her answers, when Chaewon, like an angel sent from heaven with a mission to save awkward situations, pointed at the duffel bag, screaming, “Unnie! Are those the gifts you bought for me?”

Successfully distracted, Jaegi turned his back on Chaewon, curling over the bag and sneaking glances over his shoulder. “Yah. Stop being so selfish,” he teased, causing Chaewon to giggle, chubby cheeks bunching up and stubby arms reaching for the gold she hunted.

Amused, Chaeyoung watched the exchange before realizing that Park Bomi and Park Bora were completely absent from this reunion. Not that it was particularly surprising - the twins were in their rebellious teenage years - but considering that they were the culprits pleading Chaeyoung for trendy makeup and clothing brands, she expected them to be the first one to greet her. “Where’s Bora and Bomi?” she asked, trekking to the kitchen, or in better words, a cave in the wall that had just enough space to hold a sink and stove. 

“Probably in their room ignoring each other.”

Pouring herself a glass of water, she turned around, leaning against the edge of the stove, barely registering Chaewon’s high-pitched squeal of excitement over the two boxes of Pokemon cards. “What happened this time?”

Jaegi shrugged, feigning surprise at the water Chaewon shot at him. “No clue.”

“You didn’t even try to find out the reason? Talk it out with them?”

“Nope.” At the way Chaeyoung’s mouth curled down, he sighed. “Don’t worry about them.”

“How can I not? What if they’re-”

“But you’re not their eomma.” When her eyebrows creased, he clarified, “Don’t take it offensively. I’m just saying that you can relax and let them deal with their own problems.”

Chaeyoung slowly put down her cup, trying to decide whether to protest or completely brush past his declaration for the more pressing issue on hand when the exact subject of their argument strolled out of the cramped room they shared with Chaewon. Bora rubbed her eyes, jaws dropping in an enormous yawn, just as Bomi stretched her upper body, arms reaching for the sky.

“Finished arguing?” Jaegi casually asked, settling down into one of the mismatched chairs that awkwardly complemented the sandy table. 

Bomi dropped her arms, casting Bomi a lazy glance, before shrugging. “We were too tired to curse at each other.”

Chaeyoung ignored the smug you-should’ve-listened-to-me-from-the-start look that Jaegi shot her, especially since she found nothing wrong in worrying about someone. Instead, she pointed at the duffel bag Chaewon was still admiring over. “Your gifts.” 

Like soldiers obeying orders from their commanders, Bora and Bomi snapped to attention, dashing the short distance to the table. Greedy hands pulled out paper bags decorated with the knockoff version of famous brands, the most Chaeyoung could afford with the meager amount in her bank. She watched the twins inspect the products, hoping with all her heart that they wouldn’t be disappointed.

But their faces drooped so low that their chins touched the floor. 

“They’re not real,” Bora grumbled, throwing the gift back into the bag and slumping into a chair.

Bomi followed her twin’s action, muttering, “What’s the point of buying this much if they’re all fake?”

Chaeyoung frowned, crossing her arms. “If I bought you the authentic brands, then both of you would’ve only gotten one.”

“But at least they’re-”

“Okay,” Jaegi interrupted, “Stop giving your sister such a hard time.” He leaned back so that the front two legs of his chair were off the ground, one arm supporting his whole weight. “Besides, she’s probably being considerate and saving her money to help me kickstart my football career.”

That caught Chaeyoung’s attention. “I am?”

He landed back on the ground. “You’re not?”

“Did I say I was?”

“Eomma said you were.”

“Actually, eomma is wrong. We still have to discuss this in the future.” Chaeyoung turned towards Bora and Bomi. “As for you two, I think buying a bunch of knock-off brands is more worth the price than buying only one item of the real brand.”

“What do you mean-”

“Oh, come on, I want-”

Bomi and Jaegi looked at each other, realizing that they had spoken at the same time.

Chaeyoung nodded at Jaegi. “You go first. It’s more important.”

As the twins sat back with a very loud and clear hmph, he asked, “What do you mean ‘in the future’? I need to start soon if I want to make the team when next season starts.”

“It means exactly what you think it means.”

Jaegi was silent for a moment, studying her as if waiting for her to laugh and declare her previous sentences as a joke. Finally, he said, “You’re being serious.”

“Never been more serious.”

He snorted. “That’s unfair.”

Chaeyoung exhaled, closing her eyes for a second. “Well, you’ll soon realize how sheltered you were growing up in this household.”

…

Chaeyoung was stirring her kimchi-jjigae when someone knocked on the front door.

“Bomi!” she hollered, not wanting to leave the boiling pot unattended, lest the substance spilled over. “Bora? Can you get the door?”

Silence greeted her. 

“Hello?! Anybody? Chaewon? Jaegi?”

Still complete silence.

“Goodness, where could they have all gone this early in the morning?” she muttered, although she had a suspicious feeling her siblings were still mad at her. Or the twins could still be sleeping, while Jaegi, who was a morning lark, probably dragged Chaewon to the field outside their complex to play football. 

The person knocked even harder. 

“I’m coming!” she shouted, lowering the heat of the fire. 

Chaeyoung was positive Gong was standing on the other side of the door. Or as Bora and Bomi liked to call him: the wicked witch of Ulsan. Someone whose prime years have long disappeared, with bald spots, white hair, and shaky hands, Gong was surprisingly a very ferocious and independent man, even if he was half of the height he used to be and walked at the pace of a snail. 

His demeanor, though, instead of his appearance, was what made him insufferable. He commonly banged on their apartment wall, yelling for them to be quiet, accused Chaeyoung of poisoning the kimchi eomma meticulously made for him, and three times out of a week, left trash outside their door. Chaeyoung had complained to eomma before a couple of years ago, but she had insisted Gong was a misunderstood, lonely man. So, with no other choice, their whole family had learned to tolerate him simply by avoiding him at all cost. 

She stormed to the front door. “You really don’t have to knock so hard, I’m sure the whole apartment-” 

The person greeting her on the other side of the peephole had a face free of wrinkles and warts, a smooth-skinned and young appearance that definitely didn’t belong to Gong. She hastily opened the door. 

“Jimin?!”

He did this dramatic jazz hands and beamed, the goofy and abandoned kind, “Surprise!”

“What…” Chaeyoung looked around the hallway, confused. For some reason, she kept on expecting to find Gong hiding behind Jimin; maybe they were working together to plan some devious plot. But when she pinched herself and the image of him clad in black sweatpants and white sweater remained, a force of reality slammed, albeit pleasantly, into her; the time they spent together three days ago wasn't a fever dream. “Why are you here? Wait, no, how did you even find me?”

“You told me where you lived.”

“Yes, but did I tell you what apartment number?”

Jimin leaned forward, eyes darting back and forth, before whispering, “Actually, no, but I think your neighbor might hate me.” He pointed to the door on the left. “There was a very unpleasant old man, who threatened to whack the most private and treasured part of my body with a scratching stick if I didn’t immediately leave, but thankfully, my charm won him over.”

Chaeyoung almost laughed at the current image playing in her head. “I don’t believe that. Not for Gong, at least.”

Jimin pressed a hand against his heart, dramatically leaning against the doorframe. “You’re right, but my ego cries just thinking about that, so let’s not.” Straightening, he grinned, explaining, “It’s because he kept on muttering about the family living next to him, saying the twins would never stop yapping and the oldest sibling, who’s dawdling in Seoul, fails to keep them in check. So, I guessed it was you.”

“And if it wasn’t me?”

Shifting his weight, he grinned, “Lucky for me, it was.”

“Jimin-ssi,” she groaned. “You escaped this time, but next time, you might not be so lucky. Please don’t ever do that again.” 

He sheepishly grinned, hands playing with an invisible object in his pocket.

“So…” Chaeyoung looked around again. “You still didn’t tell me. Why are you here in the first place?”

“Oh, I just came by to say hi, since I was in this area for an errand, but if you’re busy…” Stepping back, he suddenly looked very unsure of himself. “... I’ll leave and-” 

“Wait!” Chaeyoung cleared her throat, glancing over her shoulder at the shimmering pot of stew, and reasoned that Jimin’s company wouldn’t hurt. Lowering her voice, she said, “Since you stopped by anyways, it would be rude of me to decline. Come in, I won’t bite.”

Looking like he had just won the lottery, Jimin stepped inside, eyes darting from one object to another so quickly that his eyeballs became those googly black and white plastic eyes. Taking off his shoes, he spent a few seconds studying the family portrait next to the door. The one she had been trying to throw away for many years, each attempt stopped by eomma’s persistence to keep a memory. (“Not useless,” she had sternly lectured.) He then proceeded to study the rest of the apartment, as if examining whether the place was worth buying and living in, not as a stranger who met Chaeyoung just a few days ago. 

At the same time, Bora came out of the room they shared, grey shirt loosely hanging on her skinny frame, barely walking in a straight line because of her semi-closed eyes and unstable feet. She yawned, wiping away the tears. “Noona, can you be more quiet…” Her mouth stopped in mid-word, forming a perfect O, as she finally noticed the person standing next to Chaeyoung. 

Jimin’s grin had the same density and sweetness of natural honey. “Bora, am I right?”

“Right…” She looked wildly confused, eyes darting between him and Chaeyoung. “...you know each other?”

Normally, Chaeyoung would’ve shrugged, but she suddenly remembered finding out about the twin’s obsession through a very certain person and reluctantly felt a pinch in her heart. So, she nodded, smiling and slinging an arm around Jimin, who looked at her like she was crazy. Maybe she was. “We’re best friends.”

If Bora registered the jab, she didn’t respond, still as dazed as before, asking, “Hold up, not only do you know noona, but you know my name?”

Jimin pulled his puzzled gaze away from Chaeyoung to grin at Bora. “Of course. How could I not know the famous twins who are always making sure I have a great day? Bora and Bomi, am I right?”

Bora’s face and neck turned as red as a tomato. Her mouth opened and closed, probably struggling to say something but also too shy to respond to Jimin’s greeting, which might as well have been a compliment from the president.

Frustrated, Chaeyoung pulled away from Jimin, turned off the fire on the stove, and asked while slipping into her sneakers that were more grey than white. “Let’s go to your place, Jimin-ssi.”

Startled at the sudden command, he mouthed a “what”. That also seemed to snap Bora out of her admiration because she let out a small “huh” of confusion.

“Remember how I wanted to thank your mom?” She opened the front door, not even bothering to wait for his permission. “Let’s do it now.”

“What? But I just came here and-”

“Bora, food is on the stove. Warm it up once Bomi wakes up.” She paused, debating whether to say the next part, and finally conceding when she thought of their less than amiable discussion again. “Or eat it cold. I don’t really care.”

Then, Chaeyoung stepped outside, slowing down her pace when she reached the stairwells so Jimin could catch up. With each step that she descended, though, the adrenaline and irritation gradually faded away, only to be replaced by this sudden shame for her rash actions. She wondered how Bora was feeling, whether she was being too harsh. Shit, they were probably going to hate her now.

When they stepped outside the apartment complex entrance, Chaeyoung asked, voice just a bit lower than she liked, “This is fine, right? Because if not, we can do something else.”

He curiously glanced at her, looking as if he wanted to say something else, something related to what had just happened, before nodding. “Yep. Eomma would be happy to have visitors.”

She exhaled in relief. 

A few minutes later, Jimin absently asked, “Best friends?”

“Don’t ask,” Chaeyoung grumbled.

Thankfully, he didn’t make any more comments, respectfully giving her some space, and by the time they arrived at their destination, she was in a relatively good mood: one because of him and two because of the familiarity of the restaurant.

Going inside was like visiting her second home. Four tables with their respective benches took up the bulk of the space, a refrigerator used to store fermented and pickled vegetables sat in the corner, and the water filter that only served hot water decorated the area next to the fridge. That wasn’t shocking, though, especially since she was a frequent customer of this place. 

However, surrounded by the same red posters of pigs that had plastered the walls for years, Chaeyoung was surprised that she had never seen Jimin before, not once in the five years since she first ate here. Or maybe they have met but she didn’t remember. Come to think of it, she never stayed more than five minutes, the time it took for his mom to serve the food, so she guessed it was possible.

“Eomma!”

A middle-aged woman flew out from a doorway in the back. With hair resting against the nape of her neck in a low bun and flour painting a picture of hard work on her cheeks and flower-patterned apron, she looked as soft and warm as a freshly-made steam bun being pulled apart in the middle. “Jimin!”

And then she tripped, literally, gripping the edge of the table for support as one of her legs flailed in the air. 

Heart jumping to her throat, Chaeyoung involuntarily sprinted to eomeonim’s side, hands shooting out to help. However, before Chaeyoung could even reach her side, she straightened with a proud smile, clapping and dusting off her hands. “How was that?”

Chaeyoung froze, her arms dangling awkwardly in the air.

“Eomma…” Jimin laughed, exasperated. “Come on, I have a guest with me. You can prank me another day.”

Her eyes travelled to Chaeyoung, blinking. “Omo, I didn’t know you were with Jimin.” Fixing her hair, she strided to Chaeyoung before grasping her hands and scanning her up and down. Then she gasped, eyes widening, “You’re Park Chaeyoung, right?” 

Thrown off by what had just happened, Chaeyoung took a while to nod, bowing low. “I am. Nice to meet you, eomeonim.”

She grinned, revealing two dimples that seemed to further help the steamed bun effect she was giving off. “You’re so pretty.” Shooting Jimin stink eyes, she said, a playful spite jilting her words, “That bastard left out a very important detail.” 

“M-me?” Chaeyoung glanced at Jimin for help, suddenly feeling very flustered. However, he only smiled, giving her a little head tilt and no actual solution. Facing his mom again, she smiled, which probably looked wobbly and hesitant. “Ah… I’m really not, but thank you so much.” 

“Nonsense.” His mom gently tugged Chaeyoung to a table, two firm hands situating her on the benches. “If you were my daughter, I would never stop pampering you.” She gave her shoulders a light squeeze before instructing, “Jimin, get some tea for her! Where are your manners?” 

Jimin shot Chaeyoung another amused glance before disappearing into the room his mom came out from. 

Then, as if waiting for this exact moment, possessing the focus of a cat locking eyes with a mouse, his mom sat down in front of Chaeyoung and whispered, “So, tell me everything. He told me you two met on the train, but I need more details. Was he-”

“What?” Chaeyoung’s voice was a high-pitched, confused squeak. 

His mom leaned in, smiling. “We’re a family now, so don’t be embarrassed.”

“F-family,” she stammered.

Eagerly nodding, Jimin’s mom asked, “Was he very straightforward? Nervous? Did you think he-”

“Wait, eomeonim!” Chaeyoung waved both of her hands in denial. “We’re not together.”

There was a pause, and then his mom tilted her head. “What?”

Grimacing, Chaeyoung explained, “I don’t know if he’s lying or you’re overthinking, but we’re just friends who met a few days ago. Nothing more. I have a boyfriend.” 

This time, his mom was the one stammering. “Oh, right.” She coughed, laughing and sitting back with a demure smile, fingers fidgeting with each other. “Right. I might have got ahead of myself.” Her voice lowered to a murmur, “That kid. The one time he-”

“Who are you calling ‘kid’?”

Both Chaeyoung and his mom jumped in shock, as if caught in the act of stealing, looking up to see Jimin casually stroll to their table, holding three cups of steaming tea on a tray. “Chrysanthemum specially grown and brewed by my one and only eomma.” After handing them their portion, he strided over to Chaeyoung's side, long legs folding into the benches. “Anyways, what did I miss?”

“I…” Chaeyoung trailed off, unsure what to say, lightly scratching the side of the cup. 

He probably noticed the discomfort because his eyebrows furrowed before he accusingly glared at his mom. “What did you say to her?”

She laughed loudly. “Just the fact that you completely ignored me when I tripped, unlike Chaeyoung-” A wink. “-who literally sprinted over.”

Jimin snorted, cupping his hands together to whisper into Chaeyoung’s ear, “Eomma thinks she’s destined to be an actress, either from her past life or something, so she’s always pretending to trip or fall off a chair to practice her skills.”

“Yah!” His mom slapped his shoulder. “What did you say about me?”

And, as Chaeyoung watched their exchange, even though she had known his mom for a total of about an hour, she realized just how alike Jimin and his mom was. Not in physical appearance - she was round curves and he was sharp angles - but in personality wise. In the way they didn’t hold back from the world, as if it was a safe haven and the inhabitants were their comrades, families. They were definitely the type of people you would choose if you had to survive on an island because you could depend on them to be honest, straightforward with their needs and wants. Probably the golden heartthrobs of their decades.

“So, Jimin tells me you’re a common customer of my restaurant?”

Snapped out of her thoughts, Chaeyoung nodded. “Mhm. I’ve been eating your food since I was fourteen.”

“Then, you’ve been helping me pay bills since day one!”

Feeling like she was exaggerating the deed, Chaeyoung hastily shook her head, thinking back to when she first discovered this restaurant. Everything had been pure coincidence: a combination of the restaurant's convenient location to her apartment and its cheaper price compared to its rival a few streets down.   
After taking a bite of the kimchi, though, she stayed for the food, for its indescribable way to remind her of when she was still a sister. She wondered if this was what Jimin had meant by the “fate” comment when they were walking home. 

“I’ve always loved your recipes.”

A smile spread across his mom’s face and Chaeyoung realized that maybe they did look alike because she was where he got that crescent-eyed laugh. “You know what, come eat dinner with us during Seollal. I promise that you’ll eat so much, you won’t be able to walk once we finish all the dishes.” She was on rapidfire, because before Chaeyoung could even reply, she continued, shooting up in excitement, “And I just remembered! I actually have extra boxes of kimchi in the back. Why don’t you take some home?”

“What? No, it’s fine! I-”

“Nonsense!” She firmly patted the table. “This is my gift.”

“But-” Chaeyoung was about to protest when she felt something give her a gentle nudge near her elbow. Turning around, she spotted Jimin mouthing the words “just take it”. Softly shaking her head, she conceded when Jimin lifted an eyebrow, as if daring her to deny the offer, knowing that she was fighting a losing battle. So, she let his mom tug her to the doorway. 

And once she stepped behind the quilt that acted as a door to the kitchen, her regret melted away because it was like crossing into another universe. A world that was more magical because these Chapssal doughnuts had always filled stomachs and satisfied taste buds. In a trance, she scanned her surrounding, the last of her hesitance shedding away as warmth seeped into her heart. Five metal pots, each the size of a car wheel, lined the back of the kitchen, fire raging underneath in the oven. A table sat in the middle of the room, every centimeter of space occupied with stacks of leek pancakes, taro buns, egg sandwiches, and kimchi. Two sinks faced the table, empty and so clean it shone, above which hung a picture of a pig surrounded by gold and silver. 

“I actually just made these the week before, so-” His mom winked at Chaeyoung, crossing the room to lift one of the plastic containers. “-not trying to brag but they’re pretty perfect right now.” Grabbing a bag, she stuffed in three chopsticks worth of kimchi before zipping it and holding it out. “Here.”

“Thank you so much, eomeonim,” Chaeyoung said, grabbing the bag and bowing low again. 

When she straightened, his mom smiled the same one as before, eyes catching a glint of the flickering orange fire so that they seemed to be twinkling with the force of a thousand stars. 

“Enjoy them with your family. Kimchi tastes best when eaten with people you love.” She quickly hugged Chaeyoung, whispering, “I’m sorry for assuming and being brash in the beginning, but I hope you can take care of my son. He’s one of the sweetest souls alive, and I’m not even being biased.” She pulled back with another wink. 

Chaeyoung spared a quick glance over her shoulder, catching Jimin’s amusement and slight embarrassment, his feet tapping a soft beat on the floor. It was crazy, actually, that someone she met only three days ago could become a bigger part of her future. Like they skipped the whole getting-to-know-someone phase and jumped right into the best friend stage. Crazy, really, considering that she rarely made it past the acquaintances stage for most people. Turning back around, she nodded, hands tightening on the bag.

“Of course.”


	5. wish upon a dragonfly

For the fifth time in a week, Jimin's smiling face greeted Chaeyoung.

The second time, immediately after the door swung open, he had spewed an essay of words. "I swear to my mom and everyone else capable of using tools and creating fire that I have cleared all and every misunderstanding that could possibly exist. What happened last time will-"

"Jimin-ssi, hold up!" She rolled her eyes and suppressed a laugh. "I don't doubt you."

An exhalation. "That's good."

"But why are you here?"

Jimin ended up taking her to one of those industrial lakes where everyone dumped their trash. "It's the perfect place to get miscellaneous things you need. I found my current bed frame and radios buried in these piles."

Nudging a piece of scrap metal with her more-grey-than-white sneakers, Chaeyoung incredulously asked, "Do you want me to build my own pot out of this?"

"You need a new pot?"

She nodded, sighing. "Bomi was trying to cook, but accidentally burned a hole in the bottom."

"Trust me, then. You'll definitely find a used pot in here."

In the end, Chaeyoung went home with a navy blue blanket (ripped and dirty, but could be fixed with a few stitches and plenty of detergent) and a plastic tub (perfect for containing the water that kept on leaking out of her ceiling). So, although she came out of the hour with everything but a pot, she considered it to be a profitable day.

The third time, Jimin had led her to a dank alleyway that reeked of something soggy and sour, every crook and corner filled with trash and all kinds of unidentifiable liquids. "There's a kitten who needs rescuing," he had explained.

"What?! Do you want me to take it home?"

"Of course not." Jimin laughed. "My neighbor lost her cat about a week ago and ever since then, have been posting wanted flyers everywhere; she's even offering a very generous award for anyone who safely returns it to her. Coincidentally, I saw the tiny troublemaker darting in between these dumpsters a short while ago. So, if it's still roaming around here, you just have to help me trap it." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Because, of course, I'm nicer than you."

She punched him hard on the shoulder, muttering an incomprehensible curse before rolling up her sleeves. 

The fourth time, Jimin brought her to the exact neighbor he had previously mentioned, both of them taking the stairs two steps at a time.

"What's the reward?"

They turned into a dimly lit hallway, the mildew and mold blackening the bottom of the walls barely visible, and passed one, two, three doors before stopping on the fourth. Jimin looked back at the third one. "That's where I live."

Chaeyoung's eyebrow flew up. "Okay?"

Grinning, he answered her previous question, "The vegetable patch she's growing in her balcony needs to be harvested."

And because winning free food around here was equivalent to winning a million dollar lottery, she gasped.

"What can I say? I'm your hero," he bragged, knocking on an apartment that would've been identical to the rest if it wasn't for the messily hung number 569. "I told you to trust me."

Pride forgotten, she was about to shower him with praise when his neighbor opened the door, the infamous grey cat purring nearby. An hour later, she went home with four carrots, three tomatoes, and two bitter melons, upon when her mom saw, had curiously asked, "Who's in love with you?"

Now, Chaeyoung asked, "Is this going to be a common occurrence?"

Donned in sweatpants and a beige shirt that emphasized his tanner skin, he grinned. "Maybe."

Taking off her apron, Chaeyoung stepped out the door and closed it. She had stopped resisting after the second time when his trips proved to be beneficial. "Where are we going?"

"The place is further than usual."

She followed him down the stairs, absently noticing his height (about two tiny steps separated them, but he only reached her chest area). "How far?"

"About a hour walk." He jogged outside the entrance of the apartment system, waited for her to come out, and then pointed to the two objects leaning against the wall. "But probably only an hour bike ride!"

Chaeyoung screeched to a halt, heart sinking. "Don't laugh-"

Jimin tilted his head.

"-but I don't know how to ride a bike."

A moment of silence, and then his face abruptly transformed from puzzlement to something more carefree, corners of his mouth lifting, before he slapped his hand over his mouth. "Shit."

Chaeyoung scowled.

"Sorry!" However, his smile grew bigger until he was uncontrollably laughing. "You know how to fix a pipe, cook more dishes than I can count, and sell houses, but you don't know how to ride a bike."

"Like I said before, I never had the time to play with other children, so I never found any point in learning an useless skill."

Jimin cracked up, slapping his leg and jumping up and down.

Crossing her arms, she muttered, "You can be a bit more subtle."

Finally sobering up, he lightly bumped her shoulder. "Hey, don't worry. I'm enough for transportation." When she hesitated, he assured her, "You won't be a burden. Besides, the weather is too nice to not go today."

As if to emphasize his point, a cool breeze, the kind that refreshed instead of bit, blew across the horizon, lifting a few locks of hair that covered Jimin's forehead.

Walking to where the bikes sat, he swung his leg over a seat and turned around to pat the steel grid in the back. "I'll be your chauffeur. Hop on." Chaeyoung reluctantly sat down, crossing her legs and lightly grabbing onto his sweatshirt. He smirked. "You can put your arms around my waist if you want."

She rolled her eyes. "I have a boyfriend."

He copied her exasperation. "Get your mind out of the gutter. I just don't want you to crack your head and die."

Ten minutes later, she understood what he meant by "crack your head and die". The road was full of potholes, filled to the brim with either murky water, paper trash, or both. There were also long cracks, some of them mended with black asphalt, but most of them left to gape at the sky.

Chaeyoung would've been more reassured if past the dangerous part was the sight of a breathtaking scenery. Something to distract her mind from mulling over all the possible consequences. But, there wasn't any. Just naked trees, the occasional chirps of flapping birds, and melting snow that was a thousand shades darker than white.

So, she closed her eyes, wondering if this trip was a mistake.

"Somehow, you find a way to surprise me everyday," Jimin commented a few minutes into the trip. "If you don't know how to ride a bike, then how did you get around town?"

"Used my own two feet," she said.

"I've actually never heard of an Ulsan resident unable to ride a bike. When eomma got her first bike, she told me halabeoji whipped up a feast worthy of kings and queens." He stole a quick glance backwards, allowing Chaeyoung to open her eyes and catch a glimpse of the wonder on his face. "I'm assuming you couldn't afford one? Or-" He cleared his throat. "-you had a busy childhood?"

The surprise was clear in Chaeyoung's voice when she repeated "busy".

"I noticed the family portrait hanging near your entrance."

"Oh. You're right. It was busy and loud."

"Even when my household only held two inhabitants, it was never quiet. So, I can imagine how chaotic seven people and a tiny apartment could become."

Jimin continued talking, not noticing the way Chaeyoung's muscles locked. "I also couldn't help but notice there was an extra person in the frame."

When she didn't reply, he nervously laughed. "Do I sound creepy? I just remember talking about your siblings and mom on the train and since they're all there, then that means the extra person must be your dad."

"No... just very... observant." She sighed, tightening her grip on his sweatshirt when he sharply swerved and avoided a bump. "You're right again."

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me," he hurried to assure her. "I'm the type to think out loud, so sometimes, I-"

"No, it's fine."

In truth, for the beginning few years after her father's absence, Chaeyoung was filled with bitterness. Angry that she had to change Chaewon's diapers and send the twins to school at the crack of dawn when the worst concern children her age had was how long after dusk they could stay out. Angry that she had to help eomma peel potatoes and ferment kimchi when all she wanted was to learn how to do her makeup, fix her hair, and flirt with her crushes. It was anger that caused her to lash out at anyone who and anything that contained remnants of her father.

But, Chaeyoung couldn't live the rest of her life fuming. Not when eomma was working overtime to earn enough to feed six mouths. Not when the Chaewon and the twins cried every night, wishing for their father to read bedtime stories and give goodnight kisses. Not when Jaegi lost his role model, the adult who gifted him the love of football.

"Appa left when I was twelve and never came back." 

"Oh." His voice was quiet. "Shit."

She shrugged, simply glad he wasn't offering apologies. "Yeah, the shittiest. He said he had a long business trip and just never came back."

"Disappearing fathers, huh. TV shows romanticize and dramatize every aspect of life, but fathers leaving first must be universal," he said, then asked, "So, growing up and taking care of your siblings must've kept you busy?"

Tucking a piece of wayward hair, she nodded before remembering he couldn't see. "When my father left, I just naturally assumed the role."

If you couldn't destroy an obstacle and break from that cycle, then you learned to adapt and mold. And that was what Chaeyoung did. Maybe she couldn't fully experience what life had to offer, but at least she gave her siblings and eomma the best kind of gift: a chance to live without too much burden.

"And you're not tired?"

She shrugged. "It is what it is. There's no use in complaining."

Jimin pedaled in silence for a few moments before saying, "I can teach you how to ride a bike."

Although a tiny grin escaped her, she declined. "Besides, the only place I really go to is your restaurant, the grocery store, and occasionally to Gong."

"Gong?" he repeated.

"He's the worst, but I'm not stubborn enough to refrain from admitting that he has a talent for carving wood."

"Did he make your dining table? It looks expensive."

The reply sitting on the tip of her tongue abruptly disappeared when Jimin made a sudden decision to turn onto an unpaved road, cutting through an expanse of sparsely grown trees. Bouncing up and down atop the uneven, gravelly surface, she almost wrapped her whole body around his torso. "Where are we going? Is this your elaborate plan to murder me?"

He laughed. "Murder you? The exact opposite, actually. You'll love this place!"

Yelping at a pebble that nicked her in the leg, she scoffed, "Love? We're going to die from this onslaught of rocks before we even get to the place!"

"I promise you'll enjoy this! Death is inevitable, so worrying won't stop it!" he shouted, pedaling faster instead of slowing down.

"But if I worry, I won't die so early!" Chaeyoung protested, anxiously watching the ground underneath her become a brown blur. There were so many factors that could cause this bike to trip - loose pebbles, a boulder in the middle of the road, a deep pothole hidden by sand - and Jimin's current speed wasn't helping anything. "Jimin-ssi," she shrieked, heart pounding, "Slow down! You're going-"

And what she feared came true.

The front wheel encountered a huge rock, so big that there was no way for Jimin to avoid or ride over it. One second, Chaeyoung was screaming for him to watch out; the next, a loud thud filled the air. Then, she was flying, her brain racing to catch up with all the external stimuli.

She landed with her legs on top of his sternum and her arms sprawled out in front of her, breath knocked away and a dull throb forming around both of her elbows. Still trying to understand what had just happened, she didn't move for a good solid minute until Jimin mumbled the word "heavy", poking her knees.

"Shit," she cursed, scrambling up to inspect Jimin, who was staring at her with dazed eyes, a stupid grin stretching his face. "That was so dangerous. You could've died." Gently lifting and checking his arms and legs, she asked, "You didn't break anything, right?"

He shook his limbs, lost in thought, then smiled. "Nope. I feel as new as the day I was born."

"Jimin-ssi..." She almost cried in relief, sitting back onto the sand. "I literally landed on top of you."

Propping himself up, he pretended to flex his muscles. "What can I say? I'm everyone's hero."

"You're so stubborn," she groaned. Grabbing his head, she tilted it in every direction and winced when she saw some blood drip from a cut on his neck. The wound didn't look deep, but with the amount of dirt stuck on it, she was sure it hurt like hell. "I told you to stop. What are we going to do now?"

He caught both of his wrists, stopping her from searching for more injuries. "Hey, it's fine. The important question is did you have fun?"

Chaeyoung frowned. "What?"

"I know we were going a bit too fast-" He sheepishly grinned when she glared at his understatement. "-but you had fun, right?"

His behavior and enthusiasm reminded Chaeyoung so much of a golden retriever that she didn't have the heart to say "no". Either that, or Jimin laced every single word he spoke with endorphins and compulsion. "Maybe," she grumbled, then flung out a finger. "But never do that again!"

His eyes crinkled from the force of his smile. "That's what I like to hear. I had fun, too." Standing up, he helped Chaeyoung get on her feet and then released her to inspect his bike. After a short moment, he nodded. "Still intact and safe to ride. Come on. We're almost there."

She hesitated, looking pointedly at his injuries.

"Like I said, don't worry." He sat on the bike and pretended to pedal. "Unless you want me to go without you."

"You wouldn't dare!" Running back to sit on the metal rack and gripping his sweatshirt, she murmured, "Go."

Chaeyoung felt his body shake with laughter before he kicked off, the wind once again picking up both her hair and jacket. Ten more minutes passed in silence - Chaeyoung grudgingly admiring the passing scenery, Jimin steadfastly pedaling and panting - and when they finally emerged into a huge clearing, her eyes and mouth widened to form this perfect O-shape.

In front of her laid the epitome of a picturesque lake, complete with evergreen trees and rolling mountains. The surface of the water was so blue that even the sky was reflected, giving the lake an appearance of the most expensive aquamarine gem. Deep, lush conifer trees hugged the rich, brown mountains, which kissed the clear blue sky.

The walk to the shore of the lake was akin to the decorated path a princess walked at the coronation of her rightful crown, surrounded by waving grass stalks and dancing wildflowers and a touch of magic. At one point, seeing a bird swoop onto the ground to stare at her, she really thought they were going to have a conversation, embarrassingly lowering her hands when it flew away from the sudden movement. Reaching the edge, she bent down to submerge her hand into the lake, squealing and pulling back at the almost-freezing water.

Stopping next to Chaeyoung, Jimin splashed some water at her face, causing her to sputter and yowl at the icy, almost refreshing, touch against her hot skin. Laughing, he asked, "What do you think?"

She cupped a handful of water. "I really thought you were going to take me to another rundown place."

Jimin dodged her revenge splash, wearing a cheeky grin, a hint of exhilaration in his voice when he replied, "I told you to trust me."

"Why isn't this place flocked with tourists, though?" She pointed towards the murky mountain ranges looming in the background. "We can earn so much money."

Straightening, he frowned. "Why are you thinking about money? I'm just glad nobody has tainted this beautiful landscape, yet."

"Being practicable," Chaeyoung corrected.

But, she was too engrossed, trying to absorb every movement around her, to argue with him. Stalks blooming blue and purple and red flowers waved at the bright sun. A fish playing peek-a-boo with the air caused a ripple in the water. The place was brimming with vitality, yet at the same time, so calm and peaceful.

"But to answer your question. It's probably because the surrounding environment is so ugly that nobody bothered to explore any deeper."

She thought back to their trip here and decided his reason made sense. "How did you find this then?"

"Eomma is a firm believer of toddlers being able to swim. So, when I was young, she would bring me here when the weather got warmer and teach me how to float and doggy paddle and any other necessary skills for survival."

"Your mom is an angel sent from heaven."

He beamed. "That, I know."

"And you're a huge mommy's kid," she remarked, amused.

A wink. "My trademark. So, I'm assuming you don't know how to swim."

Chaeyoung narrowed her eyes. "I'm assuming you want an answer so you can laugh at me."

Pretending to wave an invisible white flag, he laughed. "Guilty as charged."

She shot him a smug glance before saying, "I have another assumption for you."

He lifted an eyebrow, bending down to grab a pebble. "Is this an interrogation?"

"Says the guy who spent the whole trip interrogating me," she retorted.

"I was just joking." Jimin smiled before slashing through the air and letting the pebble skip across the surface of the lake. Five skips. "Go on."

"You've never mentioned your father before and I didn't see him at the restaurant, so I'm assuming he also pulled a disappearing act."

He made a gesture so that only a centimeter separated his thumb and index finger. "You're this close to hitting the target."

Chaeyoung frowned. "You forced him to leave?"

"Bingo."

"What!?" Her jaw dropped. "That was my wild guess."

Jimin laughed, although Chaeyoung heard a syllable wobble. Very slight. So small that it could've been a voice crack, but she was positive that it was vulnerability. "The story about my father is complicated and long."

"Should I be worried?"

He gripped his heart and frowned. "I'm offended."

"I'm just kidding." Chaeyoung toed a bushel of grass. "What happened?"

"He took us for granted."

"When you say 'granted', do you mean he was like a parasite?"

Jimin slowly blinked before nodding. "You can put it that way."

Chaeyoung wanted to know more details, but he didn't offer, so she didn't probe. Instead, she studied him, his eyes that were staring at a random point of the lake, his mouth that was slightly pursed, his hands that were fidgeting with a pebble. If the previous wobble had been confusing, then his demeanor clarified his state of mind.

She had known him for two weeks, but she had never seen him not happy. Unconsciously, her heart grew heavy and sank.

"Oh." Her voice was quiet. "Shit."

He shrugged. "Yeah, the shittiest."

Jimin was obviously hurting, but Chaeyoung had no idea how to comfort him. She shouldn't have bought up this topic, especially at a place like this, a place that held only beautiful memories. Gosh, she, out of all people, should've understood.

Softly cursing at herself, she awkwardly punched him in the shoulder. "Yah, stop copying me."

One of his eyebrows shot up.

"I shared my story and you said 'shit'," she explained. "Guess what my reply was?"

There was a moment of silence before a tiny grin stretched across his face. "'Yeah, the shittiest'?"

Nodding, she lightly accused, crossing her arms and pursing her lips, "Copycat."

He laughed.

(And it was the same sound that Chaeyoung was used to hearing. The laugh that had greeted her every time she opened the door to his face, that had warmed her up on the train. She breathed a small sigh of relief.)

Throwing another rock, he countered, "Based on that logic, didn't you copy me first?"

Before she could agree or disagree, something small flew by her eyes, so close that she could hear the rapid beating of a pair of wings. Startled, she screamed, darting behind Jimin and peering over his shoulder. "What was that?" she whispered.

Turning around, he regarded her with amused eyes. "That was a dragonfly."

"Really?!" Chaeyoung shuddered. "They're huge. I can't believe I didn't hear it coming"

One side of his cheeks bulged out as his eyebrows furrowed. "You know what's unusual? Dragonflies usually hibernate under ice during the winter, but we just saw one fly by."

She frowned. "So?"

Eyes widening, he grabbed her shoulders, shaking her back and force until her hair and head flopped like a ragdoll. "The universe is sending us a sign, Chaeyoung-ssi! Dragonflies are associated with personal growth and transformation. This means good things will come to us next year!"

She frowned. "I don't believe in those superstitions."

"Superstitions are for people who believe sleeping with fans can bring death! This is a miracle, so rare that I've never encountered a winter dragonfly in all my years of coming here."

There it was again. That breathless passion and enthusiasm. That attractive power that must've drawn Alice into wonderland, lured sailors to sirens, tempted moths to seek adventure in fire.

He turned to the river, releasing her shoulders. "Let's make a wish."

"What kind?" she asked, cautious of ruining his high.

A momentary silence filled the air before Jimin shouted, "I wish to always protect the people I love." The words flew across the lake, soared into the sky and mountain peaks, and lingered in the icy air for a few blissful seconds before disappearing. "Your turn, Chaeyoung-ssi. What's your wish?"

Chaeyoung swallowed, staring into Jimin's coffee-colored eyes. Her wish? One by one, pictures of her siblings flashed through her mind. Her mom's warm hugs and studious habits. Jungkook's firm hands embracing her waist. She didn't have a lot of people in her life, but at the same time, she had the whole entire world.

Her wish?

Wasn't it the same as his?

"I wish to always protect the people I love!" Her voice wasn't as loud, but still firm and solid.

Jimin's smile was the glorious sun breaking a pre-thunderstorm sky. She imagined that her smile was just as tremendous.

(Later, when they were about to leave, as Chaeyoung climbed onto his bicycle, she absently said, "Just call me Chaeyoung."

Once again, his golden retriever tendencies happily peeked out. "Really?"

"Ask one more time and I'm taking back my offer."

He started pedaling. "Noted, Chaeyoung.")


End file.
